


Please stop crying

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, M/M, baby Anders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is turned into a baby and he just won't stop crying. Especially if the somehow separated Justice so much as <i>looks</i> at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [kmeme prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15195.html?thread=57562203#t57562203):  
>  There a lot of de-age prompts and stories out there. I have read a lot of the stories and they are really great. But most of the stories the person who is de-aged is young but still able to communicate. So I would like to see something a little different.  
> One day because of blood magic, magic gone wrong or whatever reason A!A can come up with. However it happens Anders is de-aged but he is de-aged to a sixth month old baby. So how will the gang deal with taking care of baby Anders
> 
> Bonus:  
> -When Anders is returned to his true age he is no longer possessed or tainted.  
> -Justice is forced out of Anders body he gains his own  
> \--Baby Anders is terrified of Justice  
> -When he is held for more then a few minutes Anders starts crying except when Fenris holds him.  
> -Anders falling a sleep on Fenris.  
> -When someone goes to change Anders dipper he pees in their faces.

Hawke liked babies like any other man. They were tiny and cute when sleeping or suckling on their mother’s breast. They were annoying when crying. They were terrifying when crying without a mother around to shush them.  
This one classified as terrifying.  
Nobody had been particularly worried about Anders being late to Wicked Grace until that point, but when the distinct sound of terrified infant wailing entered the building, all eyes at the table immediately searched for the absent healer.  
The worry came when the wailing didn’t only approach - getting closer in the most frightening sort of way as the wail moved up the stairs and to Varric’s door – but all the more when the door swung open to reveal the man they had all instinctively looked for. Holding a child bawling in fear out in front of him, swaddled haphazardly in a very recognisable feathered coat.  
Now Hawke would’ve loved to make a joke on how much older Anders looked holding the baby out in front of him like that, if it wasn’t for the blankly confused look on his face and the fact he didn’t just look tired and worn... but _actually_ at least thirty years older.  
There was a silence lasting for perhaps five seconds before the first person reacted. Merrill bounded from her chair with a squeal, rushing over to Anders to take the baby from his hands. She cradled it in her arms expertly, rocking it and cooing at the wailing child to calm it. Hawke was glad to note it worked somewhat, the terrified edge disappearing from the desperate sounds, but the sobbing didn’t quite stop.  
“Anders what in the-”  
“I am not Anders.”  
Again a silence – or as silent as it got with a sobbing and hiccupping infant in the room – while everyone stared at the aged mage. Aged mage with a surprisingly low voice.  
“Justice?” Hawke questioned carefully, only to receive a nod of confirmation.  
“Anders and I got caught up in... an accident. This is the result.” Justice gestured at the baby and Hawke felt his stomach drop.  
“Wait wait... are you saying what I think I’m saying?” Varric had stood up, leaning forward to peer at the crying child incredulously.  
“He has exactly his eyes,” Merrill cooed, rounding the table to show the dwarf the baby she was holding. Hawke preferred not to believe just yet.  
“It appears we were separated in body and age both, although I can’t fathom the reason,” Justice explains. “I’d estimate this body is as much older than we were, as _that_ body is younger.”  
“It’s clearly blood magic, silly.” Merrill shouldn’t be beaming like that while saying that. She really shouldn’t.  
“And that’s exactly why he won’t stop crying, kitten,” Isabela provided helpfully, just as Aveline took the chance to pluck the child from the elf’s hands. “Anders hates blood magic. A baby Anders wouldn’t want to be held by you, now would he?”  
Merrill pouted, looking genuinely hurt until Isabela practically draped over her, purring something in her ear Hawke was glad not to hear over the crying.  
The crying. That still. Didn’t stop.  
Aveline was rocking the baby now, shushing it quietly as she started to pace the room. Hawke would have to admit she seemed a lot more gentle with the crying infant in her arms than she had ever been before. And yet, she didn’t seem to be able to calm little Anders’ heartfelt tears.  
“Why is he crying so much,” Hawke finally questioned tersely, eyes turning back to Justice. The blond merely frowned, walking up to the warrior with the child only to instantly trigger the terrified note to return to the wailing. Aveline glowered at him until he backed up, looking almost sheepish.  
Quite the accomplishment, Hawke thought.  
“The child is probably hungry,” Sebastian decided to butt in, reaching into his pack for a piece of soft bread. He dipped it in the mug of water in front of him before holding out a hand to receive the baby – and surprisingly Aveline gave in almost immediately, softly putting Anders down on Sebastian’s lap. The Chantry brother tried to make the child suckle on the soaked bread to still the first hunger, but Anders just kept crying.  
Hawke’s head was starting to hurt.  
Sebastian kept making encouraging sounds, trying to press the corner of the soaked bread into the child’s mouth, while Anders simply kept on crying, the volume once again increasing. When after several minutes the rogue still hadn’t managed to make the baby even close his mouth over the food, Isabela took her turn.  
“All of you are so useless,” she chastised, lifting the baby up in the air before her and nuzzling his stomach – as if tickling would help. Instead the Anders made a sound of increased distress, crying picking up even louder. Hawke was about to protest when the pirate whirled around, seemingly about to _dance_ with the poor thing, when finally Fenris intervened.  
Anders was snatched from the pirate’s grip with a low growl, and the elf took a step away to scowl at them all.  
“I’m tired of this. Either someone makes him stop crying, or the abomination leaves.”  
Justice bristled, immediately stepping closer – they could probably determine how close he was to Anders by the pitch of the wailing now – to loom over the warrior. “I am not a demon, and therefore Anders is not an abomination. Cease your baseless accusations, elf.”  
“Not to mention they’re separated now,” Hawke added helpfully, gesturing for Justice to step away from Anders and Fenris. Justice obeyed surprisingly easily, even if he didn’t look particularly pleased about.  
“You can’t just try feed him bread and water if he’s hungry. We should get him some milk.”  
“There is no milk in the Hanged Man, kitten.”  
“Perhaps he just needs to be changed?” Aveline stepped closer already, but Isabela shook her head again.  
“He’s clean.”  
“He may be tired?” Varric offered helplessly, only to earn more frowns and disagreeing mutters.  
“Could he be ill?”  
“Maybe he misses Justice?”  
“He _cries_ when Justice gets too close.”  
“He cries anyway!”  
“He’s not crying now.”  
People fell silent at Hawke’s observation, and all eyes turned to Fenris. The elf seemed to be most surprised by the whole thing, a small baby cradled in the crook of his arm, all feathers and cloth and a tuft of blond hair. Anders was silent.  
“He fell asleep.”


	2. Chapter 2

An hour later, the room was significantly more quiet.

Aveline had decided there were too many people packed together and the risk of waking up little Anders too high. She had herded out anyone unnecessary – meaning everyone but Fenris and Justice. Only by the door Varric managed to convince her she had no right throwing him out of _his_ room, so he had been allowed to return as well.

Fenris understood Sebastian would return, currently on a mission to find the babe milk, a nappy and more suitable clothes.

That left him holding a sleeping _mage_ baby, stuck in a room with someone who set off the child in immediate bawling, and a very unhelpful dwarf. The silence was so thick even Fenris found it uncomfortable, and he had always been pretty sure he’d never experience such a feeling.

But the silence kept the child asleep, and a sleeping baby was easily better than a crying baby. A baby sleeping somewhere other than in Fenris’ arms would be _even better_ , but just attempting to lower the bundle of baby and clothes on Varric’s bed resulted in sleepy murmurs of protest, and Fenris didn’t dare let go. He had no doubt that putting down the child would have it start crying again.

_This was such a pain_.

He should never have picked Anders up. He hated the mage and now he was forced to _hold_ him while he slept, looking all adorable and rosy cheeked, cradled between fluffed up feathers framing the delicate soft features. Too soft. Too delicate. So very _breakable._

If he was more of the monster Anders tended to accuse him to be, he’d simply dump the child on the bed and storm off before it could start crying again. He had no reason to stay here with a sleeping breakable child in his arms. A mage child. A child who would be a man he hated – _was_ a man he hated? Would grow up to be the man he had been hating already?

Too complicated.

Fenris hitched the babe up a little to cradle it easier in one arm, brushing away some of the feathers that threatened to tickle the little Anders’ face with the tip of a sharp gauntlet. The child’s nose twitched a little, but he slept on peacefully.

If only Anders was this blissfully quiet more often.

_Wrong thought_.

The baby stirred, nose crinkling in the first signs of discontent. Fenris glanced up to give Varric and Justice an alarmed look, only to see the first signs of panic appear on their faces. _Lot of help they are._

What to do with a child about to wake up and start crying?

Fenris hitched the baby up higher on his arm again – for such a tiny thing it was surprisingly heavy and slippery; considering how thin the grown man was Fenris had expected the baby to weigh less than a cat – and stood from his seat quickly, starting to pace. The tiny nose crinkled up even further, and with a warning glare to the dwarf and demon, Fenris tried making soft shushing noises. He refused to coo at it like the women had, but he could do shushing with an attempt to gentle.

It turned out to sound more threatening than gentle, and big wet eyes blinked open at him. Little Anders made a pitiful small sound, but didn’t cry. Yet.

“That’s good, that’s good. Don’t cry now, mage. No need to cry.” He had no idea what he was saying, but the constant mutter of his voice seemed to placate the baby enough for the unhappily crinkled nose to relax.

His success was proven when Sebastian burst in, arms full of odd equipment. The baby let out a small sound of protest at the noise, but remained otherwise calm, thankfully.

“Whole of the Chantry and her volunteers, not a single available wet nurse,” Sebastian muttered, clearly agitated as he started to unload the stack in his arms. A horn with a leather teat, a large capped jug that Fenris assumed contained milk, a stack of clean blankets to swaddle the baby in and a stack of thick cotton cloth, clearly freshly washed and pressed.

“Is the babe still asleep?”

“He woke up moments ago,” Fenris answered, frowning at the pile on the table. Varric shuffled the materials around, inspecting them before starting to fill the horn from the jug. Justice attempted to step closer and help as well, but Fenris shot him a warning glare – just in time before the first muffled hiccup that promised to become a sob sounded.

Justice retreated, and little Anders became calm again.

_Blighted mage and his demon._

“Perhaps you should change him first,” Sebastian suggested, grabbing a cotton cloth and starting to fold it. Fenris stepped close, watching Sebastian fold and unfold the cloth repeatedly before finally remembering the proper way and readying the nappy for the babe.

“There you go.”

Fenris offered a levelled glare when Sebastian nervously stepped back, clearly not intending to help out with actually putting the mage in it.

“I do not know how this should be done,” he grinded tersely, surprisingly being rewarded with a happy sound from the bundle in his arms this time.

“You just put him on the nappy, fold it over him and pin it closed.” Sebastian gestured vaguely before pointedly taking another step back.

Looking around, it turned out Varric had subtly retreated to the other side of the room, pretending to be busy, and Justice standing back against a wall with a face that spoke of the foulest of moods. Not that the demon would be able to offer any help anyway.

So Fenris sighed, steeled himself, and put the bundle down on the table. The baby cooed happily, impossibly tiny hands reaching out from between the feathers to reach for Fenris. Instead of giving in to the disgustingly adorable noises, Fenris unclasped his gauntlets, shucking them on the other end of the table. He unwrapped the baby like peeling layers of a cabbage, finding the child in mightily oversized smalls in the centre. It gurgled and chirped, hands waving and grabbing.

_He wouldn’t give in to this wretched child._

He picked little Anders up, letting the worn piece of cloth all back into the robes, and put the naked baby on the nappy. Folding the nappy closed turned out to be a challenge in itself, perhaps because Fenris was looking everywhere but at the baby’s crotch.

He didn’t fear indecent thoughts about such a little child. He feared never being able to look the abomination in the eye again after having him seen so tiny and naked. But the folding of the nappy really wasn’t working like this.

“Venhedis,” he hissed under his breath, slamming down his hands on the table on either side. The baby made a startled sound and suddenly its bottom lip was trembling, eyes growing wet.

“Don’t cry.” Fenris ordered.

The lip trembled harder.

“Don’t cry, mage. I’ve had enough of your crying for the rest of my life.” His voice grew more gentle and before he knew what he was doing, he had reached a hand over the baby. Two fingers were grabbed at random, tiny hands clamping down on them. Little Anders blinked in wonder, suddenly not so convinced about the need to cry anymore. Fenris’ fingers were manhandled into pressing together, and the baby seemed confused as if he was trying to grab one finger with both hands and failing. He gave in by pulling both fingers down, lips closing over one to start suckling on it.

If looks could kill, the mage would be dead now. He had _no right_ to look this utterly adorable, naked on an open nappy, big brown eyes watching him with a child’s curiosity while a warm mouth suckled instinctively. _No right whatsoever._

“What are you doing, mage? My fingers won’t give you milk. Let me dress you.”

The suckling continued, but the baby’s eyes had brightened. _The mage was laughing at him. The nerve!_

“Cease your suckling mage!”

The suckling ceased like commanded, but only because it drew bright laughter from the baby. Also too cute. This couldn’t possibly be the man he knew, living in Darktown and prattling on about mages and their maker-forsaken rights.

This one was prattling unrelated syllables, no cohesion in it whatsoever.

It was smiling and laughing and looking so _happy_.

“Good mage,” he muttered bemused, wriggling his fingers lightly in the babe’s grip, causing it to giggle at him. He heard the shuffle of Justice against the wall, craning his neck to see what was happening. Varric had stilled to watch from where he stood as well, a look of wonder on his face.

Sebastian-

“Uhm, Fenris. The babe is peeing on you, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

_Fenris bloody well minded._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments. They brighten up my day (and my muse too).  
> You bet I'll be using some more of those lovely suggestions you all made!

So far, so good.

The child was wiped off and somehow pinned into the nappy – without pinning into soft parts that should not be pinned, at that – and he was still babbling like he had the most important stories to impart on them. Maker knows, he might just be ranting about mage rights again, but at least he was laughing cutely with it now.

Fenris refused to admit he found it cute.

Sadly, his leathers had been soaked with urine and he had been forced to undress. His armour was now stacked neatly in a corner – and Varric had oh so helpfully offered to clean the piss off, no doubt to make sure he wouldn’t have to help with the baby – and his leathers had been brought to Hawke. If the man didn’t have anything of use to offer with his pet mage, he could at least take care of Fenris’ soiled clothes for him.

That left him in a Chantry robe Sebastian had kindly provided for him, at which Anders had frowned most imperiously.

Waggling a finger at the babe had solved that, but it didn’t make Fenris feel much better.

He wanted to pace, but the trailing fabric of the robes stopped him from doing so. The mage owed him after this.

“I would’ve expected th’babe t’have fallen asleep by now.”

Fenris frowned, looking up at Sebastian and then back down at the babbling baby.

“He slept while you were away.”

“Aye, but now-”

Anders shook two little fists, a demanding gurgle coming from his throat. Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking the long sleeves of the robes away from his hands so he could pick the child up. He cradled him awkwardly on an arm again, and the baby beamed, reaching for Fenris’ chin.

“Apparently it takes more to tire this mage.”

Justice grunted in agreement from the far side of the room, and luckily it only caused a momentary frown to pass over Anders face. Then he was back to reaching up, until Fenris gave in and lifted him a little higher. Anders’ tiny hands slapped down on his chin immediately, unfailingly touching the lines of lyrium there.

“He certainly like you,” Sebastian chuckled, earning him a disgruntled glare from the elf. Even if the baby was cute. It was still the annoying, ranting mage. Now being cute. Just because he wasn’t ranting and tossing fireballs around, obviously.

Another baby gurgle and a miniature finger poked straight into a particular sensitive spot. Fenris grunted again and lowered the child, who immediately made sounds of protest, reaching up almost desperately. Fearing he might cry again, Fenris offered a finger from his free hand instead. It was grabbed immediately and stuck in a tiny, warm mouth, the instinctive sucking starting straight away.

“You should feed him now,” Varric pointed out, safely amidst the armour. “I already put the milk in the drinking bottle earlier, it’s all ready to go.”

“Funny how you seem so invested with the child while staying so far away from doing anything for him.”

Varric wilted under the glare – at least, Fenris interpreted the way he quickly went back to polishing the already clean armour that way – and shrugged noncommittally. “Blondie’s my friend, Broody. Of course I’m invested in his well-being.”

The withering glare went unnoticed – or was ignored if not. So Fenris attempted three steps of pacing before giving up and flopping down on a chair, pulling his hand free from the suckling mouth and grabbing for the filled horn. He struggled a little to get a good grip before he could offer the leather teat to the baby on his arm, which was gratefully accepted.

Anders started gulping down the milk like his life depended on it.

Considering how much he usually ate, when Fenris was in a position to see, it probably did. Had something to do with being a Grey Warden, supposedly.

Fenris watched him eat for a moment, his expression softening.

He seemed starved. Or did all babies eat this way? As if he was afraid Fenris would take the food away again, deny him the rest of his meal. It was just milk, nothing Fenris was interested in. Nothing he could stomach, in any case. And yet Anders was in such a hurry, gulping it down so fast…

…wasn’t this a little _too_ fast?

Carefully, he pulled the horn away until the teat popped from the babe’s mouth. The sucking motion continued for a moment before he seemed to register he was no longer getting anything, and then he went still.

Alright. Seemed fine then.

He hitched the baby a little higher on his arm, the warm weight sinking a little too low while he relaxed, and with the movement came the sudden gush of milk back from the baby’s mouth.

Sebastian flailed.

Varric jumped, perking up in alarm just like Justice did.

Fenris did certainly not drop the horn with milk in panic.

He grabbed the child with both hands, holding it upright and quickly standing. He shuffled over to the bed to put him down, but the moment he tilted the baby, more milk started to come out his mouth.

“He is overflowing! Sebastian, what do I do?”

“Keep him upright!” Varric hurried over, although Fenris suspected he was more worried about his bed at the moment.

“He will cry!”

“Sit him on your lap, then!”

The dwarf ushered Fenris back to the table, and he only gave in because Anders was making faces again. He shuffled over, sitting down promptly and putting the baby upright on his lap, facing him. Varric helpfully stuffed some furs between Anders’ back and the edge of the table, so Fenris could lean him back without the baby hurting himself or overflowing again.

“Why did you eat so fast?” He scolded the child gently – too gently. “Venhedis,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He was starting to talk to the baby seriously. The mage baby. The not-quite-abomination with the adorable nose.

Sad, really, knowing that nose would not remain that cute when he grew up. Knowing that cute little button would become such a monstrosity.

Yet the baby squealed like he didn’t care a bit about the future of his nose, and Fenris sighed again.

“You are a headache, mage.”

“Prt!”

“Yes, I thought you would say that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very long time, but I recently noticed that this fic has a looot of subscribers. And then I felt appropriately ashamed of myself for never updating anymore, even though I'm brimming with ideas (I just never write them down, is the problem).  
> So here is finally a new chapter of baby!Anders shenanigans!

For a baby so eager to sit on Fenris’ lap, Anders was awfully uncooperative.

Fenris had kept the babe upright for at least half an hour before daring to move, in which time Anders caught a little nap against the furs in his back. But Fenris was getting stiff, sitting like this unmoving – clearly he was out of practice – so when he moved after sufficient time had passed, Anders immediately woke.

Curious brown eyes blinked up at him, and Fenris noted with disdain that the baby still did not bother to wipe his own face after the thing with the milk. He had hoped he would be spared the trouble.

Wiping Anders’ face for him however… turned out to be a brand new challenge.

Sebastian had left them while Anders slept, but at least Varric was helpful enough to provide him with a rag. Scrubbing Anders’ face had been possible for about two seconds before the baby started to turn away, stubbornly staying away from the rag.

“You will hold still mage, you are filthy.”

Fenris tried again, but Anders was not impressed.

Pfah! Like he ever was.

He tried a little faster, and finally managed to catch the child’s face and scrub off the dried milk. The child’s brow furrowed at the rough attention and he made some whining noises of complaint, but it appeared to be otherwise safe. Luckily.

Fenris checked if he had not harmed the child – one never knew, with babies – and then put Anders down on the table, on top of the furs.

“I will go wash this and you will stay there.”

“Prt.”

“Good mage.”

He refused to acknowledge Varric’s amused looks as he stalked to the water basin, angrily washing out the cloth. Anders remained quiet, thank the Maker, even if it was mildly suspicious, to say the least. But Fenris was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he would count his blessings. A quiet mage was a good mage.

At least, that’s what he thought, right up to the moment he finished washing out the cloth and turned back around.

He turned just in time to be able to give a shout of alarm when Anders reached the edge of the table. Fenris was convinced the baby was too tiny to crawl, but there he was, on hands and knees, making his way to a dangerous fall off the table to the floor. The dwarf’s table might not be particularly high, but definitely too high for an infant!

Justice reacted immediately, springing in action faster than even Fenris could move. In a blink he had crossed the room and reached out, right as Anders’ tiny little hand slipped off the edge of the table. The baby gave a loud cry - whether it was in distress over falling or the proximity of Justice was as of yet unknown - and disappeared over the edge.

Fenris phased, flashing forward.

Varric gave a belated cry of alarm, probably at Fenris’ reaction rather than seeing the baby fall.

When Fenris became corporeal on the other end of the table, Anders was safely in Justice’ hands. Safely, if upside down and with wild wide eyes full of distress.

They stood frozen for a moment - Anders upside down, Justice in a half crouch to catch the baby and Fenris with his hackles raised, markings brightly lit - and then a short hiccup heralded the end of their quiet.

Anders’ face grew bright red and the sudden wail erupting from his mouth was almost demonic. Fenris scrambled for the baby while Justice hurriedly tried to thrust him into Fenris’ hands, ending with the Anders halfway right-side-up back in Fenris’ arms. He nearly dropped the child trying to wrangle him back into a proper direction - lest he would start losing the previous meal through the wrong direction again, late as it was - and desperately started to shush the crying baby.

A not particularly successful endeavour, with Justice as close as he was.

Fenris gave Justice a sharp glare until the demon backed up before starting to pace again, hobbling the baby lightly in his arm like he’d seen Aveline do.

Only he _couldn’t_  pace, not while wearing Sebastian’s long robes.

He tripped after a grand total of two steps, his whole body going rigid as he toppled forward. Forward, where he was holding a crying baby he was trying to hush.

If he fell on top of Anders now he’d kill the child for sure. He would never be able to live with himself if he killed a baby - even if it was a mage he always fought with.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Justice move towards him, arms outstretched to catch his fall, but there was absolutely no way the demon would make it in time.

So instead, he phased. Again.

Stepping halfway into the Fade, he put on foot forward and up, passing through floor and robes at once. When he got sure footing again he leaned back to let the robes flutter forward, allowing him to become fully corporeal once more.

It was all over in the fraction of a second, his brands lighting in a flash and dimming immediately again, but it was enough to save them from the fall. He stood halfway crouched - like he was about to kneel on one knee, to be more precise - but he stood, and the baby was safe.

The baby with a face cried wet and red, staring up at him with wide eyes full of shock and a positively indecent amount of curiosity.

“A-are you alright, Broody?” Came finally the question from Varric across the room. He turned to look, seeing not only Justice had come closer to catch him, but even Varric had moved at least three steps closer in reflex to _catch_.

“I… am fine. Anders has calmed down once more, it seems.”

With that Justice quickly shuffled back to his corner, and Fenris was grateful. Just because Anders was quiet now, didn’t mean they should push it. It was bad enough how he started to cry so easily.

Did all babies cry this quickly? Fenris couldn’t understand why anyone would ever want one if that was the case. Endearing as the little Anders may be, he was a pain in the arse.

Fenris grumbled and moved back to the table with small shuffling steps, not risking to trip himself again.

“In any case, this is all your doing, mage.” He placed the baby on the table resolutely, before lifting a hand to wag a finger at him. “I told you to stay put. What were you doing at the edge of the table?”

“Prt!”

“That is not an answer, mage! Next time you do as I say, it is for your own good.”

The baby had the gall to pout, but Fenris was not impressed. Pouting was fine, as long as he didn’t cry. It was good that he could scold the baby without causing the next bout of wailing.

He sat down on a chair and started to hike up the robes to his ankles, grumbling at the length of it. He had to find a way to secure them higher so he could move around quickly without having to phase through his own clothing. Maybe he could pin it in place, Sebastian must have something helpful in his pockets.

He tried to reach but his rolled up sleeves slipped immediately at the odd angle, dropping over his hand. He cursed under his breath, lifting his arm above him and shaking to get the sleeve back up. He struggled like that for a moment before he suddenly felt a shift in the air.

“Anders! The elf gave you an order! You _will_  stay put, it is unjust of you to make things harder on him than necessary!”

Fenris looked up disgruntled, and it was no surprise to find Anders crawling away over the table. Towards Varric, away from Justice.

How was the blighted baby even crawling in the first place?

He stood with a huff, leaning over the table and grabbing the baby by the back of the diaper.

“I told you to stay, mage.” He dragged the baby back over the table - and it was only afterwards that he realised he should not be dragging babies and he was lucky Varric had such a good quality table - to bring him back on the spot where he should be.

Dragging the baby by the diaper though… brought his attention to another issue.

“What is that _smell_ , mage?” He wrinkled his nose and Anders mirrored the expression.

Varric chuckled quietly across the table, and if it wasn’t for Fenris’ sharp hearing he might not have heard what he muttered under his breath.

“I believe Fenris is about to step in the poopy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to suggest more baby!Anders' antics!


End file.
